Does he like me?

From time to time I get some messages from you lovely lot , my readers, asking me for some relationship advice. Very flattering indeed that you think of me some kind of relationship Buddha. But strange too, as I am more of a relationship Gandhi, with my choice of abstinence. Or rather, having abstinence unwantedly thrust upon me. 

About 90% of the questions I am asked in face to face real life by actual friends and also by lovely stranger-to-me messaging women essentially boil down to the same thing:

Does he like me?

Does he love me?

Does he still like me?

Does he still love me?

And, of course, the answer is, how can I possibly know? In some cases I've never met you or him so I have absolutely no way of knowing from a one sided email. But, the response I give is pretty much always the same. And, I think, pretty much always accurate. 

Instead of trawling through his messages looking for hidden meanings 'he said 'see you later' at the end of his text, does that mean he WANTS to see me later, or like he feels he's being held at gunpoint to see me later?'

 

Or analysing every single look he gives you or doesn't give or times he touches your shoulder and agonising yourself to death over these meaningless things.

The answer lies in this one simple question. 

Do you like yourself? 

If the answer is yes, then the chances are he probably does too. It is no surprise or huge secret that people like spending time with people who are comfortable in their own skin. If you are happy to spend time in your own company, are happy with the way your life is and are brimming with self confidence. Then why would he not like you? The only reason I can see is because he is a class A idiot. 

Any amount of time you spend agonising about the things that are wrong in your life, your bodily defects, (of which, I assure you, you have none) then the more negativity you will create around yourself. 

I know it's harder said than done a lot of the time, especially when we are constantly being told by the media, advertising etc that are many reasons in life to not be happy, and that if you buy this shampoo all your dreams will come true. But a positive mental attitude makes people love to be around you. 

There are two types of people in life, there are lights and there are drains. 

Lights are pretty self explanatory. Lights are the people you have all the time in the world for. The people who you make you feel better just by being in their company. They are also so goddamn attractive. But that attractiveness isn't from an innate natural beauty (although annoyingly, sometimes it is) it comes from their positivity and being comfortable in themselves. 

Then there are drains. Not all drains are obvious at first sight. They are the sort of people that it is a bit of a chore to be around. They can only really focus in what is wrong with their lives, their bodies, the world in general. They essentially drain energy from you whenever you see them. Even if these people have natural beauty, it pretty much gets covered up by the negative energy they chose to sit in. 

Now, these are of course quite extreme ends of the scale. 

But what you have to think to yourself is,

'Am I the sort of person I would  choose to spend time with?'

 

If not, then take measures to become that person. 

 

If you spend your time pointing out the things that are wrong with you then yes, he will notice them too. How could he not? You're shoving them in his face!

 

Men never EVER notice the things we hate about our bodies, so why show them to him? 

 

If trying to be confident is uncomfortable for you at first, and for a lot of women it will be, then pretend. Pretend to be a confident women. After a little while, you just will be. 

And when you are, how could this man fail to want to be around you and bathe in your light. And quite frankly, if he is not drawn to you like a moth, then plenty of other men soon will be. 

You'll be covered in moths. Umm, I mean men. Or Moths. If you prefer. 

The Ex Files

I like to think that I am a bit of an expert when it comes to relationships (How to avoid them, how to have a man never call you again, and generally how to do all of things that ensure you that you will die alone). Which is why so many of my female friends come to me for advice in all things romance.

Nope, I can't explain it either, but there we go.

Last night I had a dinner with a wonderful friend of mine, Emily. Emily is a lawyer, Emily is a tough, hard working, no nonsense girl. Last night, Emily was a blithering wreck.

I had never seen her like this, she looked like a survivor from 28 Days Later. I wanted to put my arms around her, to comfort her but I was scared that she would eat them.

Her issue was that her boyfriend of six months or so, was still in regular contact with his ex girlfriend and it was driving her crazy.

'It's killing me' She would say between downing buckets of red wine 'I'm trying to stay calm and collected but this Bitch won't leave him alone'

She then stabbed her chicken in a way to ensure that it was really truly dead and looked up at me with the eyes of a desperate woman.

'Aren't I enough for him?'

Let's face it, we've all been here. Especially when it comes to fledgling relationships. You aren't really secure on the ground you are standing and then there's this ever watchful presence of the last woman who owned your man occasionally throwing hand grenades onto the battlefield.

It's quite a dominating presence, this woman who as far as you are aware is prettier, slimmer, cleverer (wouldn't use made up words like cleverer), cooks, cleans, does charity work, amazing in bed, is an all round Goddess and you just don't match up.

Well, let me tell you what I told poor demented Emily from under the dinner table....

He is not the one putting her on a pedestal....

You are.

Of course every man is going to have ex girlfriends, unless you date a virgin, which at my age is a touch creepy. Or we make ex girlfriends illegal. I'm sure it's on the coalition's list of things to get round to.

Some men will stay in touch with their Exes, of course, as will some women. (Sorry, that was a bit obvious, if it was just men keeping in touch with their exes and not women I'm pretty sure that's stalking...)
But, and you will have heard this time and time again, he is with you now. He is not with her. And there is a reason for this. There is a reason they are not together and there is a reason that you are.
You can drive yourself crazy over it, and ruin your relationship or you can behave like a strong independent woman who knows that she is loved and happy and secure. I know which of those two I would rather be in a relationship with. If I was a lesbian. But that's another story.

The fact of the matter is that they are friends now, which is not a bad thing, a man needs female friends for when it comes to help in his relationships, it's very healthy. In fact, if he stays in regular contact with her, it will only serve as a constant reminder of why they aren't together anymore, she won't become this perfect mythical being that she is in your head.

You just need to get the image of them bumping uglies out of your head and you'll be fine.

Looking back on it, bumping uglies might not have been the term I should have used. We had to pay for a lot of broken glass at the restaurant last night.

On the 9th Anniversary of my 21st Birthday

For today's little pick me up, I would like to talk about getting old and wrinkly.

Yes, it's something that we've read about time and time again, heard endless jokes about things going south that really have no business being there. The advertising industry feeds off our inevitable decline, wrinkles, hair loss and, gulp, hair gain.

But we all think the same thing, every single one of us young idiots think

'It'll never happen to me'

'My skin is made of a fine balance of plastic and rubber and will stay this pert and bouncy till I am laid up in my glass coffin looking as beautiful as snow white'

Which is why we are taken entirely by surprise when the decline begins.

We shouldn't be. We knew it was coming. It's inevitable. Like Piers Morgan. Slightly less horrific, but equally inevitable.

These days, I won't take my make up off before I go to bed just in case I have a panic attack when I look in the bathroom mirror in the morning.

I think I alone am sustaining the entire global sale of cover stick and foundation. I am frightened to get on a boat just in case the sheer weight of my concealer sinks it.

But what can we do? Accept it as inevitable and grow old gracefully and beautifully like Helen Mirren or Dame Judi?

Let's face it, if I didn't look as beautiful as them at twenty five, I don't have much hope in later life.

Or surgery? Fill my face with enough plastic to make a to-scale model of Buckingham Palace?

Nope... That doesn't appeal really. Except, that maybe Prince Harry could come and live in me.....

Sorry.....That got weird.

I think that we should welcome back with open arms the era of the corset. Sure, we'll have to endure a touch of fainting and the slight blueness of the lips, but think how slim and pert we'll all look! In A & E....

I truly believe that every small line that gets collected on your face over time is a loving wonderful memory to be worn with pride and a big smile. A sign that you have lived a wonderful, enriched life.

Or at least, that is what I tell myself as I lie, face down in my anti-wrinkle cream quietly sobbing....

 

 

Good good good GOOOOOD vibrations

Today, a film will be unleashed on the public. A film entitled Hysteria. You may have heard of it. And if you have, you will realise that this is a film, I simply cannot let slip by unnoticed.

It is a film about an ordinary everyday household object. And the origins thereof.

Yes. I am talking about a woman's best friend. Anyone, at this stage, who is thinking - 'Iron', is going to get a swift kick in the ankle from me.

I am of course referring to a single woman's solace, a married woman's guarantee of joy, a husband's nemesis, The Vibrator.

Any woman who tells you she has never owned or used a vibrator is a liar or a nun. It is the equivalent of a sixteen year old boy saying 'I can use my right hand for WHAT?! How very dare you?! I would never! I have exams to think of.... The very idea....'

These days they come in so many shapes, sizes, colours and creeds, the choice can be as difficult as deciding which chocolate to take in a big 'ol box of Milk Tray... You can even buy them off the shelf in Boots. (The shop. They aren't wearing boots, I think you have to go to a very specialist store for that).

They even come in a lots of different animal shapes. A menagerie a trois if you will... (sorry... couldn't resist) for the....umm.... discerning animal.... ahem.... lover..... 

There is the Rabbit... of course. Yes, we ALL know about the rabbit, but were you aware of the dolphin? The whale? And Oh My God I Wish I Was Kidding.... the HELLO KITTY VIBRATOR. 

Those three words sum up why the Japanese need to be stopped. Now.

The vibrator is no longer a tool for the sad single spinster. They are enjoyed by couples, frequently as 'spicing up' type equipment. Men even have their own fun jiggly rings of joy. 

Whilst it is becoming more and more common for women to discuss the latest in buzzing technology, it still remains a thing of great fear and excitement to men, a bit like a roller coaster, costs a lot, it looks fun and colourful and there's lots of screaming.....

But, one thing that scares them is, what if it does a better job? Will they be demoted? And why is it so much bigger than their own appendage? Isn't that just a rubbery smack in the face?

Well, they have no one to blame but themselves.

The vibrator was invented by doctors in the Victorian age to 'cure' women of 'hysteria'. The usual method of this was for the doctor to stimulate a women's vagina with their finger until they reached 'completion'. Men mixing their laziness with their love of toys invented a device to do the job for them. Which meant it was developed with a very male take on what women would find stimulating. Hence the supersized phallus.

If it had been invented by a woman, it would probably resemble a sort of tiny Ryan Gosling and would project pictures of shoes on the wall during usage.

It wasn't long before women were taking smaller versions of this 'cure' home, and funnily enough, hysteria suddenly became a very common complaint.

I am sure that no man, unless truly confident in himself, will believe me when I say no woman would choose a plastic wobbly device over a real, living breathing human. And why should he believe me, when he is told time and time again that that is not true?

Sex and the City, and any female orientated show is constantly digging away at masculinity and telling them all that they are useless and will never live up to the treasures that are nestled in Ann Summers. But it's okay, because it's always meant as a bit of fun, a little emasculating joke. 

Why can't we just tell them the truth? We would chuck out our rabbits, our tingletips and our black knights for just one evening with the man of our dreams.

But not Hello Kitty. You will have to fight me to get that one. 

Is Romance Dead? Or in a coma? Should we poke it and see?

So for those of you not yet aware, which is anyone without a computer, phone or indeed within shouting distance of my face, I am currently residing in the beautiful city of Venice in Italy.

 

This was not an 'Eat. Pray. Love' finding myself type decision, it was more a 'we will pay you to eat' type decision. 

 

So here I am. In what I believe might actually be the most beautiful city in the world. Add to that pizza, ice-cream and yummy Italian men. Or that was the idea. Unfortunately Venice is not full of thirty something dark haired lotharios called Lorenzo who would love to eat gelato off my naked body. Nope.....It is full of tourists. 

 

Tourist couples. (I threw up in my mouth a little bit when I wrote that).

They've all flocked out to have a wonderful romantic four days on gondolas, holding hands on bridges, kissing in corners and generally getting in my way on my way to work.

 

Initially I wanted to throw each couple off the Rialto and into the Grand Canal, but to be honest that would be a little too time consuming and I have better things to do with my time. Eat Pizza. Scowl. That sort of thing.

 

So instead I have observed. Like a sort of pervert spy.

 

Romance is a big business here. This place is a sort of Groundhog Valentine's Day. Gondoliers sweep young couples up and down the canal under some of the most stunning vistas ever to have been built by man. Rose sellers accost you at every turn with their huge bunches of reminders of your singledom. You can eat ice cream and playfully put some on your lovers nose before kissing in a sort of Rom Com type way. This was the city of Casanova for goodness sake. How can you not get swept up in the greeting card life? Even I forget sometimes and start holding my own hand as I wander over bridges and wonder what romantic restaurant I will take myself out to this evening.

 

This would be an ideal place to have such a unique experience, if you weren't sharing it with 6543 other couples.

 

As a result the city is packed with couples forcing themselves at huge expense to have a good time. 

 

Women scowling at boyfriends who didn't buy them that rose despite the fact that it was 3 euros and he's already sold his clothing and teeth to take her to the opera and eat a sandwich. (It's an expensive city).

 

I go on my little vaporetto up the river and watch couple in gondalas. And do they look like disgustingly happy newly weds who need to get a room? No. They look embarrassed as people gawp at them from passing boats and the banks of the river. And, depending on the weather, a bit wet. And not in a good way.

 

Call me cynical, (I won't answer because it's not my name), but I think that this forced romance actually sucks the romance out of a relationship.

 

Maybe I'm just bitter, but I can't see how you can feel ardently in love with your partner when you are fighting through crowds of equally ardently in love couples and rose sellers.

 

I can't help but feel a little smug as I sit in my quiet little corner with my book watching couples argue over maps and who got who lost.

 

But maybe I just don't know what romantic means.

50 Shades of Wahey!

So, I don't know if you've noticed, but there's been an ever so quiet discussion going on about a certain novel. It's probably passed you by, as it has barely been mention in the press, on Twitter, Facebook and every conversation you overhear. Hardly anyone has mimicked its title for comedy effect. It has its own sort of cult following. And if I were to spoon anymore sarcasm into this blog it would overspill causing everyone to be washed in a sea of low humour shouting - "Drowning am I?! Oh that's original"

50 Shades of Shite, as I like to call it, cannot be ignored unfortunately. Believe me I've tried. I threw a copy out of the window but the postman brought it back. I tossed it in a river, but it came through my tap when I poured myself a glass of water. This book is like a slimy leech. A slimy leech that I have unfortunately read.

I am not here to bore you my literary critiques or to tell you not to bother with this poorly written excuse for erotica. (Though I have achieved both of those things in the above).

What I thought we could chat about today is fetishes and kinky sex. 
Yes. That got your attention didn't it?

Sex. 

Sex sex sex.

A long time ago I met a gentleman. A very lovely guy, who told me I was beautiful and asked for my number. I wasn't even at a Home for the Blind or anything! Result.

We had a few lovely dates, and this guy was such a sweetie. And, it would seem, adored me. Which was, well... great! He was a handsome, kind, generous man. My luck was in. Right?

It was on, I think, the third date that he admitted that his sexual preferences were, well, unexpected. He was a little on the S&M side of the bedroom. And liked his women to be Dominatrices. I was, a little surprised. Actually, that's an understatement. I'm not sure if I would have been more surprised if he'd told me that on the odd occasion, he loves to sit on top of his roof, dressed as The Queen throwing fecal matter at passing wildlife.  

This was a gateway into a world I had never even looked into before. I know it exists, sure. It is like the holiday resort that you have heard tales of, and you are sure is lovely for certain types of people, (you know, those people) but really isn't your cup of tea.

So I had a lot to ponder.

Now before I continue that story, let me move on to the tale of a friend of mine - Andy. So, Andy and I were chatting recently about our love lives, sex and lack thereof. As Andy is a gay man, he isn't a stranger to the various sexual liaisons that occur between two consenting males who have met over the wonderful world wide web. So, not so long ago, Andy is chatting to a guy online and they are getting on really well, and have a lot in common. Then this guy asks Andy if he likes CMNM?

Andy is a little confused.

So before answering, he does what any upstanding (pardon the pun) gentleman would do. He consults Google.

So, for those of you uneducated types, who weren't aware. CMNM stands for Clothed Male, Naked Male. Apparently, this is a 'thing'. There are people in the world who prefer to stay fully clothed whilst others get completely naked. Often, I believe this can be linked to voyeurism. There are WHOLE websites dedicated to it! I'm not that surprised. I think in this day and age, you can find websites for everything. I imagine if your thing is men dressed as nuns on rollerskates you can probably find at least four websites to chose from depending on what colour of habit you would prefer.

My question in all of this, which is vaguely related to 50 shades, is how far should you be willing to stretch your sexual boundaries for the possibility of a wonderful relationship?

If their 'thing', really isn't your 'thing' then surely the relationship can't last. I know that sex isn't everything but at the end of the day, sex actually is everything. And if one of you isn't getting the sex they want how long are they gonna hang round. Even if the person fulfills them in all other areas.

In fifty shades, Miss Twatty McGinty (I can't remember her actual name, so this will do), pretty much gives herself over to something she isn't entirely comfortable with for a man she loves. This is not a great role model for young women who are ready to start exploring their sexuality. Elizabeth Bennet and Jane Eyre are far stronger than Miss McGinty. And they were written a long time before feminism, suffragettes and the sexual revolution.

Andy? Well, Andy tried it out and didn't find it too hideous a prospect. In the end, the relationship didn't work out for other reasons. So, I guess dipping your toe in from time to time isn't the worst thing. Don't knock it till you've tried it, so to speak.

Interestingly, I wonder, does having a particular, shall we say, fetish make it more difficult to find love? It's hard enough to find someone you fancy who like the same sort of food as you let alone someone who also loves to be tied to a car bonnet, covered in red paint and force fed fish. (Just for the record, I have not just let slip any of my own fantasies).

And me? Well, I don't have a wardrobe full of PVC catsuits and gimp masks, that's for sure. I think some things are a bit too scary, even for me. 

Checkout my new website though - www.dragnunsonskates.com. 
I think you'll like it.

All strings attached.

I have been deliberating for a long time over the topic of this blog.

There is a huuuge amount to talk about on this subject. This will probably take a good ten blogs. It is the first time I have ever had to do research. By research I mean chat to friends, lazily use Google once and watch Desperate Housewives.

The subject that I am attempting to broach is infidelity.

I'm sure it is not a coincidence that the word infidelity starts with the word infidel. 

Actually it is a massive coincidence.  

Is it inevitable that a partner will cheat? Film and TV say it is. And why would they lie? Everyone is at it. It would appear. No relationship is complete without a good old fashioned affair.

Unfortunately, what with the nature of cheating being all sort of secretive and that, the statistics can't really be trusted. But research would suggest, that somewhere between 30 and 60% of all married individuals will be unfaithful at some point.

Let's start with the basics. What constitutes cheating? People's opinions on this vary MASSIVELY. I think we are all pretty much agreed that any form of contact with another persons 'special area' is cheating. But there is a divide on kissing. I know a married woman who thinks snogging another guy is acceptable. And a bit of harmless fun. But then, I also know a man who was married but had a full blown affair for ten years. But the way he sees it, he was completely faithful. To two women. 

Both of these people, I think, are just telling themselves what they need to tell themselves to stop the guilt. The same way that I tell myself that if food is free, then it doesn't have any calories in it. Which is why my current diet consists of me rummaging around in bins outside Tescos. Seriously, I am only eating 300 calories a day. I don't know why I'm not losing weight.

In this day and age, there are all sorts of ways to get your kicks, that don't involve actually touching another persons yoghurt gun or panty hamster.

There are all sorts of websites dedicated to watching a complete stranger perform acts of rudeness on themselves. And if you're feeling in a generous mood, then you can show them your private no pants dance too.

If you engage in this behaviour whilst in a relationship, is that cheating? There are very clear arguments on both sides.

It is as harmless as porn, you will never meet the other person and possibly most importantly, you are not, nor ever will be in an emotional relationship with that person.

But, it is another person, and it is just the two of you involved. And your partner may understandably feel hurt that you have had to go elsewhere for your one man tug o' war. 

I should probably stop now, seeing as I having only managed to talk about what constitutes cheating so far. 

I have lots more nonsense to spout on this subject. And will do so at a later stage.